Watching Sofia standing at the edge of the sea, dragging her toes through the water, I feel a strange sense of harmony with the world around me. It’s been a long time since I experienced peace like this. I’m a busy man, with many demands on my time but, from the moment I ran into Sofia on the street corner, I knew I had to ditch everything to spend the day with her. I’d already spotted the raven-haired beauty sitting alone at the hotel bar and wondered what her story was. Hearing she had a fiancé stupid enough to throw her away makes me mad. But, his loss is my gain because, not only is Sofia the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, she also seems to be a really sweet girl.
As if she knows I’m thinking about her, she turns and comes back to where I’m sitting on the sand. She gets down next to me, whips out her cellphone and leans in close to me for another selfie. As she clicks away, trying to get the perfect shot, I turn and kiss her cheek. Blushing, she pulls back. “That’ll get tongues wagging.”
“Sure.” I can’t prevent the dejection slipping into my tone. As much as I’ve enjoyed the afternoon with Sofia, I’m getting tired of hamming it up for the camera. I want to kiss her, and I want it to be real. But I sense she’s not ready for that yet, so I change the subject. “So, do you like art? There’s a great little gallery about five minutes from here.”
“As long as there are no paintings of octopuses, I’ll be fine.”
I grin as I get to my feet and hold a hand out to her. “You really have a thing for the humble octopus, don’t you?”
She grimaces as she takes my hand and lets me pull her to her feet. “I just think they’re creepy. I saw someone with a plate of it on my first night in the hotel restaurant and haven’t been back since.”
“You’re kidding.”
She shakes her head. “Nope. You should see my room service bill.”
I can’t help laughing. “I doubt there’s a painting of an octopus, but if there is, you can close your eyes and trust me to guide you.”
She nods. “Okay, then.”
Sofia slips her shoes back on, and I take her hand, leading her across the busy road and up the hill towards my friend Caterina’s gallery. It’s a steep climb and Sofia grumbles under her breath.
“Everything alright, moro mou?”
“You didn’t tell me this place was uphill.”
“I could carry you, if you like.”
Sofia laughs. “Oh, hell, no. You want to get your hands on me, buy me dinner first.”
She gasps, as if she just realized what she said, but I don’t give her a chance to squirm out if it. “Deal.”
“Oh, uh, no, you already bought me lunch.”
“Quiet, Sofia. The deal’s made.”
Her mouth snaps shut at my authoritative tone but, thankfully, she doesn’t tell me where to get off. In fact, she appears to be aroused by it. Her pupils dilate and her cheeks redden. I can’t help noticing the way she clenches her jeans-clad thighs tight, as if trying to stop her pussy from reacting to me. If I was to take her into the nearest alley right now, I could fuck her senseless. But that’s not what I want to do. I want to lay her down on my bed and explore her beautiful body inch by inch. She deserves nothing less. Besides, we’ve reached Caterina’s gallery and since we tackled that hill to get here, it seems only right to go in.
I push the door open for Sofia, and she steps inside. Caterina, standing behind the counter, notices me immediately, but I put a finger to my lips and shake my head before she can greet me. I don’t want her to say anything that will give my identity away. The object of the afternoon has been to act like any other man, to spend time with a woman without my vast wealth getting in the way. Caterina seems to understand. She nods subtly and goes back to looking at the computer screen in front of her.
Sofia heads straight for a painting on the far wall. It’s by a local artist, featuring a view of the white houses overlooking the village. Sofia smiles softly as she gazes at it.
“Have that one wrapped and sent to me at the hotel,” I tell Caterina in a hushed voice, before going to join Sofia.
“These houses are so pretty,” Sofia says. “Wouldn’t you just love to live somewhere like that?”
This is my chance to tell her that I do, in fact, own a property very like that in Santorini, where I grew up. Something stops me, a long-held fear of being used for my wealth and influence. “It’s beautiful.”
“Bit out of my price range, though,” she says. She turns to me and smiles. “So, what now? Shall we head back to the hotel and grab a drink?”
“You don’t want to look around some more?”
A hint of sadness has crept into her eyes. She shakes her head. “No. Let’s get back. I could murder a martini.”
As I follow her to the door, I can’t help wondering what made her mood shift. I hate the thought of her being unhappy. It occurs to me then that already this woman means something to me. I want her, and not just for one night.